contrasted at intervals with the tall-backed chairs of a far more distant generation, when ladies in fardingales and gentlemen in trunk-hose seem never to have indulged in horizontal positions.

The walls, of shining wainscot, were thickly covered, chiefly with family pictures; though now and then some Dutch fair or battle-piece showed that a former proprietor had been less exclusive in his taste for the arts.

The pianoforte stood open near the fireplace; a long dwarf bookcase at the far end added its sober smile to the room.

That bookcase contained what was called "The Lady's Library,"-- a collection commenced by the squire's grandmother, of pious memory, and completed by his mother, who had more taste for the lighter letters, with but little addition from the bibliomaniac tendencies of the present Mrs.Hazeldean, who, being no great reader, contented herself with subscribing to the Book Club.

In this feminine Bodleian, the sermons collected by Mrs.Hazeldean, the grandmother, stood cheek-by-jowl beside the novels purchased by Mrs.Hazeldean, the mother,-- "Mixtaque ridenti colocasia fundet acantho!" But, to be sure, the novels, in spite of very inflammatory titles, such as "Fatal Sensibility," "Errors of the Heart," etc., were so harmless that I doubt if the sermons could have had much to say against their next-door neighbours,--and that is all that can be expected by the best of us.
A parrot dozing on his perch; some goldfish fast asleep in their glass bowl; two or three dogs on the rug, and Flimsey, Miss Jemima's spaniel, curled into a ball on the softest sofa; Mrs.Hazeldean's work-table rather in disorder, as if it had been lately used; the "St.James's Chronicle" dangling down from a little tripod near the squire's armchair; a high screen of gilt and stamped leather fencing off the card-table,--all these, dispersed about a room large enough to hold them all and not seem crowded, offered many a pleasant resting-place for the eye, when it turned from the world of nature to the home of man.
But see, Captain Barnabas, fortified by his fourth cup of tea, has at length summoned courage to whisper to Mrs.Hazeldean, "Don't you think the parson will be impatient for his rubber ?" Mrs.Hazeldean glanced at the parson and smiled; but she gave the signal to the captain, and the bell was rung, lights were brought in, the curtains let down; in a few moments more, the group had collected round the cardtable.